


Warm Memories

by BlueBastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean is very sad, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, One Shot, Very innocent silliness, poor bubsie feels guilty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBastard/pseuds/BlueBastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, missing you, reflects on the best summer he'd ever had: the last one he'd shared with you.<br/>(Dean Winchester/Reader)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few years back for my big sister!  
> FYI: When it jumps in, it's flashbacks. I don't like putting it all in italics.  
> Enjoy, tell me what you think (or don't, that's cool) but mostly enjoy! :D (Yes, again, don't freak out I _AM_ DayDreamCrow on Luna, just repostin.)

For the past year, the brothers had been in the same humdrum of events. Find a case, solve it, get out of town. There was never room for any relaxation. Tonight was no different, sitting in this shady motel room, neck-deep in police reports. Sam, however, had enough of pissing around and checking those dead-end leads, and decided to go out for a drink.  
He’d dropped Dean a few hints, but the elder brother didn’t seem to bother with going out tonight –he simply sat in front of the TV with a beer in hand, staring blankly at the screen. “Dean, are you coming?” Sam stood by the door with his coat in hand, frowning worriedly. It was no mystery to Sam what was on his brother’s mind: Dean missed you –this was exactly the kind of night where you’d keep him company.  
“No...” Dean said, then took a sip from his beer, “You go on, I don’t feel like it tonight, ya’know?”  
Sam drew a sigh, “Yeah...I know.” Looking back, he just knew this was going to be a depressing night for Dean. However, Sam knew to leave him be –his big brother dealt with things in his own way, best not interfere. 

The door closed, the click of the lock informing Dean he was finally alone. About time. He looked down at the picture in his hand. It was of you and him, both soaking wet and laughing. It showed himself grabbing you by your shirt and pulling you back. He smiled –but it was sad and bitter, though. A year, it had been exactly a year since this photo was taken, but Dean remembered every detail of that day.

> The lake looked absolutely amazing. Dean wasn’t a poet or an artist, but he knew beauty when he saw it, and he was looking right at it: shimmering water as far as he could see that met with rows of pine trees in the back.  
>  His feet stomped on the wooden boards of the dock by their cabin, moving closer to the ledge. He leant forward and glanced down at his own refection in the water –maybe he should take a dive in when the case was over, it was summer after all. 
> 
> “Geronimo!” A weight in his back pushed him down –when he realized the water was coming closer, it was already too late. With a loud splash, he dove head-first into the cold water, realizing someone was going to pay dearly for this. Under the water, he saw a familiar pair of shorts and tank-top swimming to the surface. _Damn it, (Y/n)!_  
>  As quick as he could, he swam up and resurfaced just before you did. “What the hell, (Y/n)?” Dean cursed, water dripping from his face. Sure, he was angry and taken off guard at first, but when he caught you laughing, it was all okay again. 

Dean grunted and threw the picture on the coffee table. _Come on, big guy, you’re not going to get all emotional now, are you?_ Dean asked himself, feeling a lump form in his throat at your memory. Subconsciously, he’d searched your number in his contact list and now had his thumb hovering above the call-button. What he would give to hear your voice again.

> He watched carefully as your hand reached up to brush your wet hair back. You wobbled up and down in the water, trying to stay afloat and laughed, the sound alone making Dean forget he was ever angry with you. “Come on, Dean, you can’t say that wasn’t fun.” Droplets splashed his way as you slapped the surface of the water towards him.  
>  He blocked them and send a wave right back at you. “Alright, alright. I’m still gonna get you, though.”  
>  There was a moment of silence where you both just stared at each other. As the moment passed, Dean’s expression became increasingly devious. You simply knew you had to run, or swim for that matter. Both of you seemed to realize at the exact same moment what was going down and raced for the lake side. You arrived first and dashed for your cabin.  
>  But, as you knew, no one could shake a hunter when he was on track. Just as Sam came outside to check what to commotion was all about, Dean caught up. Feeling him close in on you, you made one last attempt to escape his reach and made a little jump forwards, only limiting his catch to your shirt. Your run came to an abrupt stop when your top had stretched to its limit, leaving you to dangle against his chest. 

The cell phone made a loud thump on the sofa beside him. What was he thinking? He couldn’t call you. It had been a year. You probably never wanted to see him again, he’d nearly gotten you killed on that hunt! Dean swallowed down another lump and brushed his hand over his mouth. _Don’t you dare fucking cry, Dean! Don’t you fucking dare!_

> Wiggling and kicking, you managed to get loose, but Dean was just too fast. The second you had a little bit of freedom, his arms found a grip again. What you both failed to noticed was that Sam had snapped a picture of you while you were fighting for freedom. That single picture would turn out to be your most cherished memory of these boys and the adventures you’d shared with them.  
>  “Let me go!” you whined, dropping through your knees with the idea of making it harder for him to hold you. Too bad it didn’t work.  
>  “Oh no, no. Payback!” He announced prideful, lifting you up in the air and swinging you over his shoulder. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle when a girly yelp escaped you as you noticed he was heading for the lake again.  
>  Sam stood on the porch of the summer cabin and smiled. Dean’s form became smaller and smaller as he went down the hill with you on his shoulder. The younger sibling grinned honestly, thinking this was the happiest Dean had ever been. 

Sam had been right back then: Dean couldn’t name one day where he’d felt any better than that moment with you. That’s why leaving you had been so difficult. He thought it wouldn’t be, he’d left people before, loved ones...but you, you were something else entirely.  
A tear rolled down his cheek, making him curse himself: _I said, no crying._ He gulped down what was left of his beer and put it down in front of him. For a second, Dean considered calling you again and glanced at his phone. At that moment, as if God had decided it, the screen lit up and an unknown caller was displayed.  
Sighing, he picked it up and stared at the screen for a while, the vibration taunting him to answer. Only clients called unknown. Nonetheless, this was no time for being depressed, it was business. “Hello?” he said, a slight crack in his timbre.

“Dean? It’s (Y/n). God, you sound awful.”


End file.
